


Punk Rock Pixie Dream Girl

by cmlanning



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 14:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmlanning/pseuds/cmlanning
Summary: A young trans girl gets an unexpected visit one day during therapy, one that'll change her dreams and others. She struggles with self acceptance, but still manages to make other people happy. That's what makes her the perfect candidate to become a pixie dream girl.





	Punk Rock Pixie Dream Girl

 

As I waited for band practice on a particularly dull Saturday, I looked myself over in my compact mirror for what felt like the 3,000th time. I sighed, sending a little powder flying up. Making one last glance at the green eyes staring back at me, partially hidden by light blonde bangs, I closed the compact and put it back in my purse. 

_ Still no mustache _ , I thought, sighing again. 

I twirled some drumsticks and started practicing that rim shot I’d yet to get the hang of in our new song “Should Have Kissed Me Yesterday.” 

My black nail polish became a blur as I set into a new rhythm, not really any part of the song, just something I was feeling in the moment. I continued playing feeling my tempo picking up to match my pulse. 

It wasn’t long before my bombastic playing grew louder, echoing out the garage and down the nearly empty street.

Then I began to hash out some lyrics Tessa might sing. We all took turns writing songs, and I felt like I hadn’t been pulling my weight lately as we worked toward our first album. 

I began to mouth some words, “Ruffled hair glowing in the morning light, she lifts off the covers, starts her new day.” 

Another two minutes into a drum solo which, I anticipate Jenna would want trimmed, and I was done. 

“I hope I can remember all that for when the girls get here,” I said. 

A slight  _ ahem  _ from in front of me let me know Jenna and Tessa were there. 

“The girls have been here watching you play for a little bit now,” Jenna said, putting her purple hair into a ponytail. 

I looked up and rubbed the back of my neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” I asked, leaning over to take a drink from my water bottle. 

“Because you’re so adorable when you get going into one of your little jam sessions,” Tessa teased. “Sometimes we like to play a game of how close we can stand before you notice us. You just get into your own little world while playing.” 

Jenna put her guitar case down and opened it revealing her mahogany Gibson Les Paul studio. She ran her fingers over it slowly and said, “I hope you’re ready to practice, baby.” 

“Ugh, get a room already,” Tessa said, pulling out her Yamaha electric bass. 

She ran her bubble-gum pink nails over her red bass and stroked it mockingly. 

“Oh baby. I hope you’re ready to practice. Make mama proud,” she said, and Jenna elbowed her. 

I decided to come to Jenna’s rescue and said, “Hey, that’s a cute color on your nails.”

“Thanks! They’re-” 

“You should ask your mom to pick me out a color next time she does your nails,” I said, interrupting her. 

Jenna was in the middle of putting on her guitar strip when she let out a big chuckle that echoed through my mom’s garage. 

Tessa flipped me the bird and stuck her tongue out. 

“Is that a move they teach all you cheerleaders, or. . .?” Jenna asked. 

Tessa smirked and elbowed her friend as she got her bass ready. 

Around the time we were set up and ready to practice, Mom came into the garage, walking through bays one and two. 

“Hey ladies!” she called out, wiping her greasy hands on her overalls. 

“Hi Ms. Rosa,” Jenna and Tessa said. 

“For the love of God. I’m not your homeroom teacher. Call me Melanie, or I’m taking back your rehearsal space,” Melanie said. 

“Sorry Melanie,” Jenna said. 

Mom came over and planted a big kiss on my forehead. 

“Mom, I’ve told you you’re wasting your time. You can’t embarrass me like that. Tessa’s mom is way worse,” I said. 

Melanie smirked and scratched her short black hair. 

“You two ever hear about the time Roxie got the public pool shut down when we lived in Iowa?”

“Mom! Okay, you win. What chore do you want done. Name your price,” I said, flustered and blushing something fierce. 

She grabbed my chin and looked me in the eye before saying, “No chores. I just want you to remember this moment. I can embarrass you when you’re 17, and I can embarrass you when you’re 70.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

_ Like you’ll still be around when I’m 70,  _ I thought before having a crushing realization at what I’d just said in my mind.  _ No wait! I love my mom. Let her still be around when I’m 70. I take it back!  _

“You hear from your father today?” Melanie asked me, letting go of my chin. 

I rolled my eyes even longer this time. 

“Just the usual morning Bible verse addressed to Johnny. Asshole. Dear Johnny,” I began to read as if he were writing the text with a quill and parchment. “I hope you’ll find solace and wisdom in this morning’s verse, Deuteronomy 22:5. I’m praying for you every day that you find the right path. Your father, Charles.” 

“Hey now. That’s your father you’re talking about, Roxie” Melanie said, putting her hands on her hips. 

“So you’ll address him as Mr. Asshole,” she finished, ruffling my hair and walking away. 

I smiled and thought back to how supportive and great my mother was, even through the divorce, when she should have spent more time focussing on herself, she took care of me. 

She didn’t balk through the hormones, the counseling, and during last month’s surgery, she sat right at my bedside. When it came to fixing documents, mom was relentless. She got a paralegal friend of hers to help with everything. 

Now her voice snapped me back to reality. 

“I don’t want you overdoing it, miss priss. I know you’re excited with this being your first rehearsal back, but you’ve got one hour. You’ve got that appointment with Dr. Lyra this afternoon anyway,” Melanie said. “I’ll be out back working on my truck.” 

“You fix cars for a living during the week, and you’re not going to do something else on your days off?” Jenna asked. 

Before she went back outside, Melanie called back, “On the weekend I get to play with  _ my  _ vehicles.” 

I smiled. Ever since coming back to Fayetteville and taking over grandpa’s shop, my mom had been so happy. She’d gotten to move from car repairs as a hobby, to actually supporting her family with it. 

On the weekends, she let us set up and practice in bay number three. 

We’d played a couple shows and even got to perform at the Washington County Fair for about 20 minutes. Best 20 minutes of my life as we rocked our top two songs “Glitter Choke” and “Glistening Steed.” We even got to play our cover of Bonnie Tyler’s “I Need A Hero.” 

But since I’d had my surgery last month down in Houston I’d been recovering. It’s amazing how painful those first three weeks were. But it was nothing compared to finally feeling euphoria, like I was finally right, well mostly. 

The recovery had been slow. I was glad mom had insisted we wait until summer so school wasn’t an issue. But I missed playing with my friends. 

Our rehearsal went well. It took a few minutes for us to find ourselves, but after that it was like we’d never separated. Jenna had warmed up her voice before walking over with Tessa, so she sounded great. We knew the band had an hour, and we didn’t want to waste a moment of it. 

Though I had to admit I was pretty tired by the time we finished “Full Moon Kisses.” My energy still hadn’t come back to its former level yet. 

My doctor had said five-week recovery wasn’t out of the ordinary, even for a 17-year-old. I was a little frustrated at how limited I felt. I never used to rest between tasks. Now I needed half an hour here and there to relax. Mom had reminded me she had a few bungee cords she could tie me to the couch with if I didn’t rest up when I was tired. And she had that analytical mom eye. Like a freakin’ cyborg, she instantly knows my status. 

Since surgery she’d been on me like a hawk. Drink water. Go to bed on time. Eat fruits, vegetables, protein, fiber, and you’ll heal faster. 

As Jenna and Tessa put away their instruments, I got up and walked over to a tool chest where a wrapped gift lay. I’d used unicorn paper and a pink ribbon. 

_ Actually, this is about the same shade as Tessa’s nails,  _ I thought, scoffing.  _ I mean, it’s not like I hated the color.  _

Walking back over with the small box, I handed it to Tessa. 

“I’m sorry I missed our planned get together last weekend. I really was bedridden all day. I still feel pretty terrible,” I said. 

She smiled and took the gift. 

“I totes understand, girl. You’re still recovering. You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, untying the bow gently. 

“I know she didn’t. . . but I’m still really excited to see what she got you. Roxie gifts are always the best,” Jenna said. 

I blushed and looked down at a nearby oil slick. 

Tessa opened the paper revealing a fuzzy red ring gift box. 

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Tessa asked. 

“Shut up and open it,” I said, rolling my eyes. 

The cheerleader did as she was told and found a little necklace inside. There was a small pearl on a thin silver chain. Surrounding the pearl was a light green wire in the shape of a sea turtle, so the pearl made its shell. 

“Oh my God,” Tessa squeaked. 

“Do you like it?” I asked. 

“Whoa,” Jenna answered first, sticking her head in for a closer look. 

Tessa wiped her left eye and sniffled a little bit. 

“What is this for?” she asked. 

I looked down at the oil slick again and said, “I know you’ve had a rough couple weeks since your aunt passed away. I just wanted to cheer you up.” 

She walked over and threw both arms around me. 

“Thank you so much. I love it,” she said, still sniffling. 

“I’m so happy you like it. When mom and I were still recovering in Houston, I suggested we drive over to Galveston for seafood. While we were there, we stayed on the beach and went hunting for oysters. The third one I found had that inside. And I knew you liked sea turtles, so I did my best to shape the wire. I threw away quite a few drafts,” I said, chuckling. 

Tessa finally let me go and asked Jenna to help her put it on. She obliged, and I smiled bigger. It fit her well and looked great with her red dress. 

We talked for a few minutes, and then the girls left. 

I went inside to shower. I was all sticky thanks to that lovely Arkansas summer humidity. I sat on the couch for a little bit, and then I got up and grabbed my keys. 

“Where are you going?” Melanie asked. 

“I’m going to head over and walk Miss Michelle’s dog,” I said. 

“Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Mom, she just had hip surgery. She can’t walk the animal. She can’t even walk,” I said. 

Melanie cocked her head to the side in that mom cyborg daughter harm calculator, and I reassured her, saying, “Mom, I’m just going to do a few laps around the block. The corgi isn’t exactly a marathon runner.” 

“Two laps. That’s it,” Mom said. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

I walked across the street and up to a little blue house with pink flowers planted beside the porch. 

_ These downtown houses are always so beautiful,  _ I thought. 

I loved that we lived right above the garage in a little flat. It got a little noisy sometimes, but I loved the location. I could even walk to school. 

I knocked on the door three times and announced myself loudly. 

“Miss Michelle? It’s Roxie. I’m coming in to walk Rufus,” I said, hearing the dog scratching the door excitedly on the other side. 

I walked in and found her on the couch watching a show about beach houses on HGTV. 

“Hello dear,” she said, looking at me. 

Rufus had already fetched his leash and was jumping on my knees pawing for his daily walk. 

“Are you doing better today?” I asked. 

“Much. Thanks again for taking care of the little stinker for me. You’re a sweet girl,” she said, smiling and adjusting her thick brown glasses. 

Miss Michelle had been the high school secretary for 30 years now, and I was really close with her, had been since mom and I moved back from Kansas after the divorce. She’d been the first person outside my family to use my new name, like it was no big deal. 

Sometimes I mowed her lawn or helped her garden, but now she really just needed a dog walker. So I looked down at the little cream colored corgi, with his excited pointy ears and attached the leash. 

“Ready to go, boy?”

Rufus barked and pawed at the door, eager to get on with it already. 

“He seems excited, but you’ll probably carry him back through that same door after half a lap,” Michelle said. 

“We’ll see,” I said, laughing. 

We walked for about 20 minutes, and he stopped to sniff this flower and pee on this bush. We waited for a UPS truck to drive by, and he barked at it, but mysteriously not the FedEx truck that drove by shortly after. 

Michelle was right though, because eventually the heat got to Rufus, and I carried him back inside and got him a fresh bowl of water, putting ice cubes in it. 

Then I went over to hug our school secretary and said, “You’ve got my number if you need anything.” 

“I’m fine, dear. But thank you. My son will be by in a couple hours for dinner. You’ve done more than enough.” 

I smiled and then brought in her paper, opening it to the crossword section. I fetched her favorite blue pen with an ostrich ornament that dangled from the end. 

“Tell Jim I said hi,” I said, leaving her. 

Before I was out of earshot, she hollered, “Five down? Best selling album of 1997?”

“Spice,” I called before closing the front door. 

Half an hour later I was sitting in a waiting room outside of Dr. Tina Lyra’s office. She was my therapist. 

Mom had dropped me off and then went to get off some coffees. 

The receptionist was a college student named Michael. He had short black hair and wore a Nirvana t-shirt. He was cute, and I sometimes thought of asking him out. He was just a freshman, after all. He was just a couple years older than me. 

_ What’s stopping you?  _ I asked myself, already knowing the answer. 

I checked my compact again, looking for that mustache shadow. It wasn’t there. 

_ He probably only dates real girls,  _ I thought, missing Jenna and Tessa. 

“Hey Roxie?” he called out. 

I bolted out of my thoughts. 

“Yeah?”

“So, Dr. Lyra is out this weekend. She called in sick, but Dr. Alanis is available to see you,” Michael said. 

I stood up and grabbed my purse. It was a big green frog with a mouth that opened to reveal the inside of the purse. It had a long green strap. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t want to-”

“Nonsense. I’m available,” a woman’s voice said to Michael’s left. There stood a tall olive-skinned woman with long curly black hair. She was wearing a simple white blouse and black pants. She had a strange accent I couldn’t even begin to place. 

“No offense. I just don’t-”

“Relax, I’m fully qualified in gender studies,” she said, gently grabbing my wrist and leading me into Dr. Lyra’s office. 

“I looked at Michael with a pleading look, but he was already back to watching  _ Seinfeld  _ on the computer. 

Dr. Alanis’ grip was benign but at the same time wouldn’t let me escape. 

“Why don’t you have a seat, Roxie?” the counselor said, motioning for Dr. Lyra’s blue couch. She sat opposite of me in a wooden chair. 

My heart was racing as I softly said, “I mean no offense, but I don’t know that I’m entirely comfortable with a substitute, Dr. Alanis.”

“Please, just call me Selene. And I apologize for the sudden change in speakers, but tonight is the full moon, and the portal back to my world closes soon,” she said. 

I just shook my head at the absurdity I’d heard. 

“Excuse me?”

She stood up, and before my eyes, her hair turned silver. Her eyes glowed pink.

“Is it appropriate for me to ask if I’m going to crazy in a therapist’s office?” I asked. 

“Don’t be alarmed, Roxie. I’m here to see you, and what you’re seeing is real, I assure you. I apologize for the abrupt display of magic, but this should help,” she said, reaching into a pocket and grabbing some blue rose petals. 

She blew them in my direction with all the momentum of an evening breeze. And at once I began to calm down. I was still confused at what was happening, but my heart wasn’t racing anymore. 

I exhaled somehow smelling the entire season of spring in my nostrils and asked, “What exactly is happening right now?”

“It’s easier for me to explain when you’re calm and at peace. Are you feeling those things?” she asked. 

I thought for a moment and then nodded slowly. 

“Good. My name really is Selene. I’m a pixie, and I’ve been watching you for some time now. I want your help,” she said. 

“You’re like. . . what? Tinkerbell?” I asked, still confused. 

She laughingly asked, “Do these look like something you get from Never Never Land?”

As she spoke, two large glowing green gossamer wings came into view behind her. As they flapped rapidly, she floated a little bit. 

“Yes. . . yes they do look like something you’d get from Never Never Land,” I said, finding it hard to form words. 

She landed and said, “Oh, I guess they are. Heh, sorry. I guess that was a foolish question.” 

And then she spent the next half hour explaining the magical world she lived in and how some pixies were responsible for human dreams, specifically, for bringing good dreams to suffering souls. 

Every full moon a portal opened, and she would return home until the next full moon. Then she’d return to the human world to help with dreams again. In this way she spent a month in her home and a month in ours. 

“That’s all nice and well, but what does that have to do with me?”

She took a drink of water from a glass on the table next to her. 

“Sorry, throat got dry from all the explaining. Anyway, when dream pixies return to their homeworld, they typically empower pure-hearted maidens, sorry, that’s old timey language for you, to deliver good dreams in their place. The work doesn’t stop, you know,” Selene said. 

I shook my head and looked at the carpet under my black sneakers. 

“What’s wrong?” Selene asked. 

“I feel as though I deceived you, and I’m sorry,” I said, my heart sinking and a tear forming in my right eye. 

“How do you think you did that?”

“I’m not really a- I mean, you’re looking for a legitamate. . . and I don’t. I wasn’t born-” I said, failing about three or four sentences in a row. 

I was crying now, no way around it, full tears. 

Selene sat down on a little table by the couch and handed me a box of tissues. I blew my nose, and she said, “You didn’t deceive me, Roxie. I know I’ve found the right girl for this job.” 

I stood up and shouted at her, “I’m not real!” 

The sentence didn’t make sense, but all my emotions were rushing to the surface, all the dysphoria I struggled with on a daily basis.

She slowly touched my left hand. 

“This feels like a real hand,” she said, softly. “Why don’t you tell me what bothers you so deeply?”

My voice was still louder than I wanted it to be, but I was upset. This was my upset voice. 

“Three years of puberty blockers, hormones, speech therapy, and it wasn’t enough, Selene! Then I had that surgery because I thought that would finally make me feel real, like I wasn’t some impostor. But weeks have come and gone, and even this hasn’t solved my problem. I still feel like I’m just pretending to be a woman instead of actually being one like I desperately want,” I said, crying and sinking to my knees. 

She just listened. 

“Every day I’m looking in mirrors, trying to find flaws my classmates and friends will see, revealing I’m just a fake. I’m testing my voice. I’m watching how I walk, how I react, how I- everything! Because I am terrified somebody is going to accuse me of being a fake somewhere down the line, and I just don’t think I’ll want to keep going after that. That’s what’s bothering me deep down. You came looking for a girl to help people with their dreams, and you found something like me.” 

Selene kneeled down and brushed the side of my face while I blubbered incoherently about my worst fears. 

She waited until I grew quieter and then said, “Roxie, I didn’t make a mistake. You’re such a kindhearted young girl. You’re always putting in overtime to make other people happy. The perfect person for this job, it’s none other than you. And the fact that you’re still able to make other people smile while carrying around all this negativity and emotional scarring? It’s just more proof.” 

I still didn’t agree with the pixie as she helped me up and put me back on the couch. 

“I think I can help you with this if you trust me to poke around inside your memories for a moment. Do you trust me?” she asked. 

I’d never met this woman before. Heck, I didn’t know pixies existed until half an hour ago. But. . . I did trust her. I didn’t think she’d chosen the right person. But I trusted her. 

I just nodded, and her eyes glowed pink again. She placed a warm right hand on my head, and I was lulled into a blackness. 

As things came into focus, I was in a familiar room. It was my old living room from when we lived in Garden City, Kansas. And I heard a familiar noise. It was Mom and Dad shouting in front of the fireplace. 

A renewed sense of dread filled me. I’d replayed this scene so many times. I’d had nightmares about it. This was Christmas Eve, and I was nine. 

Dad had just found a Christmas dress Mom had wrapped under the tree. 

“You can’t give our son this!” he shouted. 

“Keep your voice down. She’s going to hear you,” Melanie hissed. “And I can give our child whatever Christmas gift I want.” 

They didn’t know, but a young child sat on the staircase listening to them, heat reaching from the fireplace to her already warm face covered in tears and snot. 

I looked over at the stairs from the hallway I stood in, and there she was, or rather, there I was. To this day, I’d never told anyone about this fight. I couldn’t bring myself to. 

They continued to go back and forth, Dad’s voice getting louder the longer mother argued. 

“It’s not right. We have a son, not a daughter. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you give this crap to him. You’re just confusing him,” he yelled. 

“She’s not stupid, Charles! She knows exactly how she feels, and everything I’ve read said we need to provide a loving environment for her now more than ever. She’s at a critical point in her development and needs to see she’s not a mistake,” Melanie said. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Selene. 

“This is it, the single most painful memory you have,” she said. 

Mom and Dad continued their fight. 

“I’m shipping the boy off to that camp we talked about first thing next week. They’re going to get all this crap out of his head once and for all, really make a man out of him,” Charles said. 

“Are you serious? You still want to send our child to conversion therapy? You’re just going to hurt her even more. Did you read any of the articles I printed off for you? Research shows-” 

“I don’t want to hear your biased research, Melanie! I can’t believe you’re actually encouraging this pathetic behavior. Do you have any idea how much stress this has filled my heart with? That boy needs to be dealt with, and I’m not going to let you break him even more than he already is.” 

Her solid slap echoed through the house. 

“Our daughter isn’t broken, Charles. You are. I love her just the way she is. And I’ll tell you this. She is not going to be shipped off to some camp for you to feel better about yourself. If you’d read the research, you’d see there’s no ‘curing’ this type of thing. All you’d be doing is stifling her and increasing the odds of self harm, maybe even suicide in the future.” 

Charles tried to speak, but Melanie wasn’t done. 

“You think you’re stressed? How about our daughter? She feels like she was born in the wrong body and has to wake up to it every day, imprisoned in a flesh she didn’t ask for.” 

“How on earth could you know she feels like that? You’re just projecting your desires for a daughter onto her. There’s no way she actually feels like that. Nobody does,” he said. 

I couldn’t look away as tears continued to fall. 

“You want to know how I know? Because she told me, you ass. I took time to listen to her as she cried in my arms a few nights ago. She doesn’t feel like she can trust her own father after the tantrum he threw when he found that doll in her closet.” 

Charles said nothing for a moment and then uttered the most painful sentence that’d haunted Roxie the rest of her years. 

“Christ, Melanie. He’s a boy; just look at him! You want to, what? Let him walk around in a dress? Grow his hair out? Paint his nails? He’d be the ugliest fake girl anyone’s ever seen.” 

I sank to my knees for the second time and let out a whimper. 

Selene turned my face toward her. But the first thing I saw was little me, sitting on the stairs and trying her hardest to stifle tears so she wouldn’t make noise. Then I saw Selene’s gray eyes. 

“You weren’t supposed to hear this, and it serves you no benefit. Let me erase this memory and take this burden from you. You’ll still know how your father feels, but this particular shackle you’ve lugged around all these years? You deserve to be free from it. Please let me help,” she said. 

I gave the slightest nod I think I’d ever given in my life. I wasn’t even sure my head moved. The last thing I saw was Melanie slapping him again, and the scene shattered into a billion pieces before my eyes, tiny shards of glass. All except for the fireplace. 

The shards just floated there in the darkness until Selene pulled out a little sack, and they all flew inside with a clinking sound. 

When she’d finished, the pixie tossed the sack into the fire, and my head felt numb. Then I faded into the blackness and once more found myself in the office. 

“What. I don’t.” 

“You’re fine, better than fine,” Selene said, still holding her hand on my head. 

When she finally removed it, the pixie asked, “So, do you want to help me out?”

I remembered our previous conversation, but it felt different now. I couldn’t place why I’d cried so much. She was just asking me to help people’s dreams, and to be honest, it sounded like a swell idea. 

“I’d like to help,” I said and stood up. 

She smiled. 

The pixie held up her open palm, and it flashed a bright white for a second. Then there was a small bracelet made of smooth blue beads hovering in her open hand. They glowed and had some strange symbols carved into them. 

“Take these and put them on the wrist above your dominant hand,” she instructed. 

I touched them and yelped a little. It felt like I was touching water, but the beads were solid. Selene giggled and said, “Don’t worry. You’re not the first to do that.” 

I gingerly took the bracelet and slipped it on my left wrist. 

“What now?”

“You can’t use it until I exit this world, which will be tonight at exactly 1:45 a.m. local time. But after that, you’ll utter the words ‘ _ Ambulate per somnia’  _ while looking at a mirror. The mirror will then show you the dream of somebody who needs your help. When you see the dream, say ‘ _ Immeo, _ ’ and you’ll be transported to their dream, where you’ll have control of the world. Use that control to erase their unease and make them happy again. When they wake up, you’ll find yourself back where you were when you first saw the dream in your mirror.”  

It was a lot to take, so I just nodded with a blank look on my face. 

“You’ll do great, Roxie. I’ll be back in a month and expect a report on all the people you’ve helped. Then when I go away again, we can discuss you continuing on if you like the job,” she said. 

“One thing,” I said. “If I’m helping other people in their dreams, when will I sleep?” 

The pixie smiled and said, “That’s the brilliant thing about that bracelet. So long as you’re wearing it, your body won’t grow tired. It keeps you refreshed 24/7, and you’ll actually find it impossible to sleep while wearing it. So I expect you to help someone every night.” 

I marveled at the jewel, and she ushered me out of the office. 

“I’ve got preparations to make, but you’ll do great. See you next month,” Selene said, and I walked out where Mom was waiting with coffee. 

“How’d it go?” she asked. 

“Really well,” I said, taking my iced drink. 

That night I was sitting in my bed, watching the clock on my phone. At 1:46 a.m., I pulled open my compact and said the words. Nothing happened at first, but instead of looking for a mustache, I just looked at my eyes, which had. . . started to glow?

And just like turning on a television, the mirror suddenly showed me a dark room, a chapel of some kind, perhaps. I heard a familiar cry coming from inside. And I didn’t know how too many people sounded crying. 

Without giving it further thought, I uttered the word “ _ Immeo _ !” 

And there I was inside the chapel in my pajamas! There was a silver casket up near a podium. It was on a thick stand with black wheels on top of thin red carpet. A wooden cross stood not too far behind the podium, and oak pews surrounded me. About 200 people could fit in this chapel, I guessed. And I’d been here once before. 

I heard more crying and looked up toward the casket. There on the front row sat one of my best friends in the world. With her head in her hands, Tessa cried, calling out her aunt’s name from time to time. 

_ This is what she’s been dreaming every night since the funeral?  _ I thought, suddenly miserable in my heart for her. 

I walked over and sat down on the pew next to my friend. 

“Ro-Roxie?” she stammered looking up. 

“Mmmmhhmmm,” I said, taking her hdad in my arms. 

“I’m here, Tessa. I’m here for you. And I promise I won’t leave you alone,” I said, stroking her hair, as she sobbed into my PJs. 

“She loved you so much, Tessa. And she’s not in pain any longer,” I said when she was in a place to listen. 

Then I listened as she told me just how much she missed her aunt. They’d been closer than I knew. It was Tessa’s Aung Casey that bought her the bass and how to sing. They wrote songs together, spent hours discussing lyrics, and Casey came to every show we’d played so far. That’s why it hurt Tessa so much. 

When Tessa finally told me everything she’d wanted to say about her aunt, she said she didn’t want to say these things to anyone else because she didn’t want to seem like a baby or to bum them out. 

I reminded her that I would always listen to her and would never call her names or feel bummed out. And then I said, “Let’s get you out of this room.” 

And suddenly, I knew exactly where we needed to be. My bracelet glowed, and I waved my left arm, picturing an entirely new scene. In moments, we weren’t in the chapel, we were under the sea. Without any need for scuba gear because, dream world. We swam through a coral reef. Brilliant colors stretched out for miles before us. I made lionfish, angelfish, clownfish and all manner of sea creatures swim through Tessa’s hair and play with her. She laughed and smiled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. 

Next came her favorite part, the sea turtles. They swam by in a long row that stretched endlessly, and we swam by their side, sometimes hitching a ride on their shells. They didn’t mind one bit. Tessa continued to smile, a beam that erased any sadness from my heart I’d felt upon first entering this dream. 

This went on for quite some time until I was suddenly back in my bed with the 8 a.m. alarm going off. 

“That’s abrupt. I guess she woke up,” I said and hopped out of bed to run to the shower. The bracelet worked like a charm. I wasn’t tired in the least. 

As I waited for my frozen waffles to pop out of the toaster, my phone buzzed. I had a text from Tessa. 

“I just wanted to let you know I had a dream we swam with turtles last night. It made me happy. Thanks again for the necklace. I feel great today,” she said. 

I smiled and responded, looking down at my bracelet. 

Mom came in to grab some milk and eyed my new jewels. 

“Where’d you get those?”

“A friend gave them to me,” I said, smiling, knowing the next month was going to be exciting. 


End file.
